


all your blood has washed away and all you did will be undone

by tillysaysfuck



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 didn't happen, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Jody Mills, Castiel is alive, Chuck Shurley Dies, Established Donna Hanscum/Jody Mills, F/F, Jack Kline as God, Jody Mills character study, Jody Mills is Christian and we never talk about it, Jody and Donna end up together and there's nothing you can say to change my mind, Kaia Nieves Lives, Minor Kaia Nieves/Claire Novak, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 15, Post-Season/Series Finale, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, loosely based on anglican faith, post-episode 15x19, prayers, religious trauma, supernatural needs more good wlw content and i aim to deliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27933358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillysaysfuck/pseuds/tillysaysfuck
Summary: Praying has always come easy to Sheriff Jody Mills. Much like the duties that come with her rank, there is a pattern to prayer. It is a routine close to mindfulness, an excuse to isolate herself entirely from her emotions and place them upon something else – or rather, someone else. God as she had known him in her youth was a dichotomous form, jealous and righteous in tandem. He’d been the omnipotent shadow backing up her mother’s words, the unrelenting peacemaker, the giver and taker of life. She herself had said the prayers at her husband and son’s funeral.Since then, Jody has often found herself contemplating prayer.
Relationships: Donna Hanscum & Jody Mills, Donna Hanscum/Jody Mills, Jody Mills & Jack Kline
Comments: 18
Kudos: 16





	all your blood has washed away and all you did will be undone

**Author's Note:**

> supernatural is my religious trauma comfort show, so when i realized jody mills was some flavour of christian within the supernatural universe i went ohhhhh boy... this bitch got trauma

Prayer is smoke, its tendrils wrapped around a heavy bronze cross hanging over a young girl’s doorframe. She is seven years old and struggling to breathe – pneumonia, the doctor says. Hushed light glows from a lamp on her nightstand, and her mother’s steadfast voice flickers across the wavelengths. The woman is seated on the edge of the girl’s bed, pressing a damp rag to her daughter’s forehead. Her other hand clutches a loop of blue beads, a silver cross pressed close to the woman’s palm. Prayer spills from her lips, and in three days when the fever breaks, it is prayer, not penicillin, that is deemed the cause for celebration.

As the years pass, prayer follows the girl like shadows. The prayers are long and eloquent at her confirmation, quick and sharp as she returns home from a high school party. Religion is a gentle force in her life, stable yet earnest. Prayer is the beginning and end of each day. It covers her in its shroud, not unlike the once-white lace tablecloths that grace the church luncheon every second Sunday. She prays before meals, before bed, before Bible study. There are three different translations of the scriptures stowed away in the living room of her childhood home. Her father has read each of them, passing on tidbits of revelation to his daughter whenever he has the chance. When she leaves home for the police academy, the prayers that follow her are familiar, like a mother’s warm embrace.

Praying has always come easy to Sheriff Jody Mills. Much like the duties that come with her rank, there is a pattern to prayer. It is a routine close to mindfulness, an excuse to isolate herself entirely from her emotions and place them upon something else – or rather, someone else. God as she had known him in her youth was a dichotomous form, jealous and righteous in tandem. He’d been the omnipotent shadow backing up her mother’s words, the unrelenting peacemaker, the giver and taker of life. She herself had said the prayers at her husband and son’s funeral.

Since then, Jody has often found herself contemplating prayer.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that God was a huge asshole who had been using humanity for his own entertainment since who knows how long. To be betrayed by a sense of comfort she’d relied upon since childhood cuts deep, tearing a part of her from herself before she can even recognize what’s missing. And yet it is more than that – it is less about God himself than it is about Jody’s own sense of judgement. It feels as though Jody has let herself down more times than she can count over the last decade. Prayers did little good for Sean and Owen as she burned their bodies, setting their souls free from terribly short-lived lives. She didn’t wash the ash from her skin for days following the pyre. What good was faith in a cycle of rescue and casualty, of sleep lost to the fear that her family wouldn’t return home? While it is true that Donna and the girls have filled a void she’d had trouble putting words to for years, the absence of divinity stings more than she likes to admit.

Jody doesn’t pray for a month following the Disappearance. She had returned to consciousness in a haze, her first action after checking in on nearby survivors to call Donna. They’d both cried over the phone, Donna loud and unashamed while Jody was near-silent, brushing away tear tracks when she hung up after the shortest five minutes of her life. After an hour of arranging safe transportation for the civilians she’d taken in, she got the call from the Winchesters: God was dead. The world wouldn’t end. It was the coldest comfort she’d ever received.

They’d all returned to Sioux Falls together – her, Donna, the girls. Normally it would have taken nothing short of a miracle to bring the five of them together. Perhaps living through God’s assault on humanity counts as a miracle, but as Jody watches the remnants of her family assemble themselves back together, she curses a God who no longer exists. The Disappearance takes its tolls on everyone, but the girls suffer the worst of it. Patience is silent in the following weeks, her head swarming with visions like ghosts bent on haunting. She speaks less and sleeps more, visibly altered by tragedy. It is Claire who takes her on like a project, Claire who attempts to stitch together the pieces pulled loose by shift after cosmic shift in the thread of reality. Claire who is freshly twenty-three, her hands and heart calloused yet gentle. She’s been in the life longer than Jody, and it’s a blow to the gut each time Jody realizes her daughter will never know anything but this.

There is a cross Jody has kept hanging in her kitchen since she got this place. She won’t look at it. If Donna and the girls recognize the change in her schedule, the absence of closed eyes before a meal or quiet prayers over the kitchen sink, they say nothing. Alex has taken on most of the household duties, stays in contact with other hunters in case of a new big bad on the horizon. Mostly she reports milk run hunts; a ghoul case in Toledo, a lone werewolf or two in the South. Both she and Donna have taken time off work – how much time passes, Jody can’t be sure. But the five of them remain a comfort to one another, even when words can’t offer peace. They take comfort in small celebrations and evenings around the fireplace. There is comfort in the half-burned meals, the polishing of guns, the togetherness.

Comfort is offered to Jody in more ways than one.

Donna doesn’t sleep in the spare room anymore. Even if it hadn’t been given to Patience a little over two years ago, she wouldn’t have found much use for the solitude. Jody goes to bed last, a habit she’s picked up over the years of waiting on Claire to come home after a hunt. So when Jody creaks open her bedroom door at half past one and sees Donna fast asleep beneath the covers, she joins the other woman quietly. They make a habit of this, fingers entangled and bodies pressed close. Donna sleeps on the side of the bed nearest to the wall, making it easier for Jody to slip in after checking on the girls.

It’s no surprise to anyone that they’ve found refuge in one another. It’s a soft kind of love, a series of touches and reminders and saving each other from certain death that builds itself over years of camaraderie. They fall into a rhythm that replaces Jody’s need for prayer, and Donna doesn’t question the matter. It’s the little things that keep them close. Jody knows Donna isn’t an early riser, so she’s the one who makes coffee in the mornings and leaves a cup on their bedside table. Conversely, Donna has an eye for picking out hunts with frightening accuracy, and so the two pass jobs along to hunters near the scene. And when they are alone, Donna’s straw-gold hair unravelled on the pillow and Jody’s breathing heavy and ragged, Jody thinks to herself that this is what answered prayers must feel like.

-

It isn’t until Donna takes the girls out on a Sunday afternoon that Jody finds it within herself to seek the solace of prayer.

Her mother’s loop of blue prayer beads is tucked in her nightstand drawer, and as she retrieves it, a nameless type of shame creeps up her neck. It’s been too long since she used the prayer beads, and yet time could stretch out forever and her distance from religion would never be far enough. For years she’s been sharing her deepest fears with a being who cared no more for her than he did the very core of the universe itself. Chuck is gone, Jody knows that, but her hesitation remains.

“Guide us waking oh Lord,” Jody’s eyes shut and she breathes. “Guard us sleeping, that awake we may watch with Christ and asleep we may rest in peace.” Her thumb rubs over each bead as she recites the prayer, the memory her mother’s voice speaking in time with her own. She sighs and leans against the nightstand, bringing the beads to her chest. “Look… I don’t know if you can hear me. And maybe I’m talking to the air – hell knows I’ve done my fair share of that my whole damn life.” She grits her teeth. “But I’m lost, dammit. The girls… they’re getting by. I’m worried about Patience. And Claire, she’s taking on too much. There’s only so much I can do, and I’m afraid it’s not enough.” Jody’s voice cracks on the final word, and she stays silent. Prayer used to bring her peace, a sense of relief and togetherness with the powers beyond her understanding. Even as a hunter, armed with the knowledge of angels and demons and all their nuances, Jody managed to keep prayer as her own. Now, as she stands alone in the cabin, she’s met with a mix of relief and uneasiness from performing the long overdue ritual.

“You’ve always done more than enough, Jody.”

The voice makes her jump, sending the nightstand clattering against the wall. Jody’s eyes fly open and she is dumbfounded when she sees Jack standing there, a soft sunny smile gracing his face. His hair is tousled and boyish, and if it weren’t for the fact that the Winchesters had informed her that Jack was the new God, Jody would have had no idea how to respond to the ex-nephilim appearing in her house.

“Prayer is something I’ve had to get used to picking up on lately.” Jack tilts his head in that childish, familiar way. “It comforts you.”

Jody barely makes a sound through the shock. “It used to.”

Jack crosses the room, and Jody is hit with the comical realization that God is wearing tennis shoes in her bedroom. He’s not a vision, not here with prophecies and retribution – he’s a kid she knows, an extended family member. He could turn her to salt for a lack of faith. He could drive her to madness with a glimpse of his true form.

God sinks into the blue upholstered chair in the corner of her room and crosses his legs like a middle schooler. “I’m really sorry it’s been hard for you, Jody.”

She shuffles uncomfortably. “That’s just part of the job, Jack.”

“I know.” Jack’s head falls back and he stares at the ceiling, narrowing his eyes curiously. Jody wonders what God needs curiosity for. “But you’ve given so much of yourself, even when the odds were against you.” He says, fingers drumming the arm of the chair in repetition. “You had faith when it didn’t make sense to; isn’t that the truest kind?”

“Sometimes faith seems so far from reality, I really don’t know if I can answer that question.”

Jack pauses, taking in Jody’s words before meeting her gaze. “I wanted to give you something. I’m actually really glad you prayed. I wanted to ask before doing anything.” When Jody nods, he does too, albeit far less bewildered than her. “Sometimes people die before they’re supposed to. I know all of humanity’s possible endings are recorded by Death, but sometimes they just go too soon. Like your husband and son.”

Jody freezes, images of blood and flesh and fire flooding her mind. “Jack, what are you saying?”

He smiles, and in that moment Jody is uncannily aware that the being in front of her is no longer a boy overwhelmed with power. There is an ease to his features, a tranquility in the curve of his smile. Maybe she is imagining it, but Jody could swear there is a faint gold glow to his eyes.

“I brought Castiel back to life.” A childish eagerness returns to his voice, and the memory of a boy taken under the angel’s wing makes Jody ache. “Dean prayed to me, and he was sad. I was sad too. Bringing back Castiel was one of the first things I made right when I became God.”

She’s tempted. By all that’s right in this world, is she ever tempted. But Jody recalls those who have come back from death after far too long. She’s reminded of ghosts and their grievances, of stories told by witches and clairvoyants of the heavy price that comes with the re-animation of souls. Jody thinks of Mary Winchester, a woman so far removed from destiny she never quite let go of the past. Sam and Dean didn’t say much when she died the second time, but Jody was a mother too, and the grief the boys felt sometimes appeared a close friend of relief.

Jody takes in a shaky breath. “For ten years, they’ve been in heaven. Sean and Owen, I mean.” She looks to Jack and he nods in response. “Are they happy?”

“Yes,” Jack smiles with an easy sense of pride. “They live in your family house, and Owen sees his grandparents whenever he wants. Castiel and I have worked together to tear down the barriers in heaven; everyone is free to visit as they please.”

Tears sting in the corner of Jody’s eyes, and the sheriff hastily wipes them away with the back of her hand. “I can’t take that from them. I can’t – they don’t deserve to be thrown in this life, Jack.” She smiles sadly. “I’m not the same person they remember. Hell, I can barely remember what that person even looked like.”

Jack stands from the chair, nodding slowly. “I understand. They’re being watched over, Jody.” He crosses the room and places a hand on her shoulder. “They’re safe. And happy.”

“Will you tell them I love them?” Jody blurts out the words before she can stop herself. “I mean – I know you’re busy, I can’t imagine the changes you’ve experienced. But if it’s not too much trouble.” Her lips press together in a pained smile, and Jack squeezes her shoulder and nods.

“Of course. There’s a lot of fixing up I still have to do, but you’re family. I wanted to make sure things got fixed up for you in person.” Jack finally releases her from his grip, his eyes kind and understanding as she meets his gaze. “I’ve been watching you and your family, Jody. I know it hasn’t been easy on you.”

“Can you help the girls?” Jody’s voice falters, emotion rushing into her blood. She feels vulnerable with all the requests, but dammit if Jody doesn’t want a better life for her family. “I’m fine, Jack, really. But they deserve another chance, and I don’t know how to give it to them.”

Jack nods as though pondering the request. “Patience Turner, one of the women you’ve informally adopted. Her brain functions differently than an average human’s because of her powers. So when the multiverse was being unravelled, and when everyone vanished, her neurons couldn't catch up.” His eyes flash gold, and then he smiles at Jody. “She’s strong. All of you are. She’ll still need support to understand everything, but I promise, she’s gonna be okay.”

Before Jody finds the words to respond, Jack moves to stand next to her, leaning on the nightstand along with her. He taps his fingers on the wood surface, careful not to bump the lamp. “I want to fix things, and I think I have to bring someone back. Don’t worry – she’s from the life, and she hasn’t been gone long.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Claire has been sad, too. She hides it better than the others, but she’s still sad. She lost someone who was taken early.”

“Kaia,” Jody breathes. She remembers the girl, strong and unassuming like Claire, determined in a way Jody had never witnessed from another living person. “You’d do that? You’d bring her back?”

“Claire is family; of course I will.”

Jack’s smile is infectious as ever, and Jody finds it hard to resist smiling back. “That means more than I can say, Jack. Thank you.” She exhales long and slow, shaking her head at the turn of events. “Sure you don’t want to give us a little push in the right direction? You know, with you being God and all that.” Perhaps it isn’t a fair question, but Jody’s mind is full of them and she needs answers. She knows Jack, but God is another matter entirely.

Jack doesn’t seem to be offended. He laughs softly and shrugs. “No, Jody. I think humans have fought for free will long enough. Did you know it was supposed to be a gift from God? Free will, I mean. I don’t think anyone should take that away from you ever again.”

Once more, Jody isn’t sure how to respond. She mulls it over, the concept of freedom from higher powers. Her prayer beads are still in her hand, and she slowly sets them behind her on the nightstand. “Thank you, Jack.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll be closer thank you think, Jody.”

When she looks to her side, Jack is gone.

Jody draws in a shaky breath and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, time has passed, and the light from her bedroom window has grown dim. She hears the rustling of life beyond the wooden door and realizes Donna and the girls have come home.

Quickly, she shakes herself back to her senses and exits the bedroom. Nothing has changed drastically, but the sight of her family lugging in brown paper bags and squabbling amongst themselves makes Jody smile. Alex is ahead of the group, as usual, delegating everyone’s tasks for dinner. Donna is shaking her head and herding the girls through the door, making some remark to Patience, who looks happier than Jody has seen her in weeks. And Claire – well, Claire is shoving grocery bags onto the counter without much of a second thought.

“Whoa there speedy, easy with the potatoes.” Jody is pulled back to the present, back to the girls wreaking havoc. It's a good-natured reprimand, and Jody is reminded of how far her relationship with Claire has come as her adopted daughter spins around to gloat.

“At least you can be happy I didn’t drop any this time.” Claire grins, earning a nudge in the ribs from Alex. “Hey! I didn’t see you carry in any groceries.”

The girls argue amongst themselves, the sounds erupting into laughter and good-natured teasing before long. Jody crosses her arms and watches the scene unfold. It’ll be a long time before they’re back together again like this, and the brevity of the moment isn’t lost on her.

“Oh hey, you!” Before she knows what’s happening, Jody feels a pair of arms snaked around her neck. Donna cranes her neck and kisses her cheek. “Get into trouble while we were gone?”

Jody chuckles and leans back into her. “I’m more concerned about the trouble you guys got into.” It’s a moment more until Donna releases her from the hug.

“Oh, no use worryin’ about us. We got ingredients for a shepherd’s pie – Alex volunteered to make dinner.” Donna announces as she takes her place by Jody’s side. “Isn’t that right, Alex dear?”

As Alex turns to retort, someone’s phone buzzes. And when Claire is the one to fish her phone from her pocket, Jody’s heart lurches. Claire glances at the text, freezing when she sees the message on the screen. The room grows quiet as Claire raises a hand and covers her mouth, green eyes growing wide.

“I have to go.”

Donna is the first to speak, her brows knit together in worry. “You sure everything’s okay, sweetcheeks?”

Claire nods sharply, pocketing her phone and reaching for one of the freshly-polished handguns on the coffee table. “Kaia’s alive.” Her voice is raspy, a shock she fights to contain seeping through every word.

“Do you want someone to come with you?” Even as she asks the question, Jody knows the answer.

“I have to do this on my own, Jody.” Claire pockets the gun and slings one of the pre-packed hunting bags over her back as she heads for the door. Jody recalls the first time she did that, a half-grown kid who chased death like she couldn’t reach it fast enough. Claire has grown, Jody realizes, and this is only the first of many decisions she will have to make on her own. “I’ll call when I can. Promise.”

Sometimes, letting go of the living is harder than letting go of the dead.

Jody reaches for Donna’s hand. Squeezes it once. Her gaze doesn’t move from Claire’s. “I know you will, kid.” She smiles, beckons to the door. “Go get her.”

They watch her go, and suddenly making dinner is less important than it had been a moment before. This is part of moving on, this temporary togetherness, and Jody finds the new rhythm less daunting than she had before. Claire will find Kaia, and the remainder of their family will warm up TV dinners and sit around the fire and laugh until their sides hurt. It’s late when Patience and Alex go to bed, leaving Jody and Donna curled up in a checkered canvas blanket next to a dying fire. Donna runs her hand through Jody’s silver-black hair and Jody, despite all her instincts, makes an effort to relax. To exist, freely.

She doesn’t move until another hour passes and a text lights up the soft blue screen of her phone. Claire is safe. Claire is with Kaia. Claire will be home in a few days’ time. Jody sets the phone back down onto the coffee table and presses a kiss into Donna’s arm, promising to return. The other sheriff murmurs a response, pulling the blankets tighter around her form as Jody rises and walks to the kitchen.

There in its place, unmoved for years upon years, hangs Jody’s heavy bronze cross. The top of its frame rests upon a nail – which Jody has always found ironic – and so it slips from its housing with little complaint. Its time is over, its purpose spent. Jody places it on the rustic countertop and sighs, bowing her head in a final prayer.

_Thank you._

**Author's Note:**

> it's hard to find a donna/jody fic that actually surpasses 1k and isn't a background ship. if anyone has any recommendations, please let me know! also, recommend me more religious trauma supernatural fics. i fuckin thrive on this stuff, and now that the show is over, i need to fill the void.
> 
> title is from "taxi cab" by twenty one pilots


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